Insanity
by Lummy1507
Summary: Hermione has a disease- but of the heart and mind. And there is only one cure. The thing is... she has lost her single chance at attaining the cure, but she doesn't know it yet. When the realization hits... One-shot. HGXDM. Read and review, please.


**A/N: Just another random one-shot. It may seem a biiiit shallow at the beginning, but do read through, it gets better, I promise! =P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini or Ronald Weasley. -_- Or Harry Potter for that matter.  
**

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'So,' said Zabini, with an awkward smile.

I was grateful to Draco for trying to set me up, but I could not wait to wrap my fingers around his throat for ever thinking _Blaise Zabini_ and I would hit it off.

Actually, I wasn't particular about where my hands went once they were on Draco.

I shook myself mentally and smiled back at Zabini, hoping I looked more comfortable then he did.

'So, you're with Wizarding Wireless Network, I hear?' I enquired.

He grabbed on to this as though it were a lifeline, and began describing the terms and conditions under which he had transferred from Wizbuzz Entertainment to WWN; but I found myself nodding along vaguely, my mind miles away from the conversation.

Actually, merely seven yards to the left our table, where Draco was dancing with his latest toy… what-it's-face? Francesca? Monique? -some French name; and she was just his type, too: tall, blonde, bright blue eyes, dazzling artificially whitened teeth, which weren't the only _fake_ thing she possessed, if you catch my drift…

Even so, I gave this fling two weeks, maximum.

The most insignificant squeak reached my ears through the thrumming of the music as a stiletto twisted on the glossy black surface of the dance floor. A high-pitched giggle, the flapping of her pale pink dress against her thighs… no matter how much I tried to block it out, I couldn't.

Every time he ran his hand across her waist, or brushed her long hair off her bare shoulder, I felt myself cringe.

Every time she threw back her head and laughed at his jokes (most of which I'm positive she didn't understand), or laid her palm on his chest, I felt like ripping her apart, limb from limb, slowly and painfully. She was so tall and air-headed and gorgeous and pretentious and… everything I wasn't.

Everything I would never be.

Everything I wished I was.

And I hated Draco for making me feel this way.

Not that I hadn't had my chance; not that I had never been Draco's type.

After the Final Battle, we finished our Seventh Year at Hogwarts and gave our NEWTs. I joined the Ministry. Kingsley, as Minister for Magic, had, as part of some sick, twisted joke, partnered me up with Draco Malfoy in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Apparently, he had needed "watching", and there was no one more suitable for the task than me.

But once Draco and I had overcome our initial… obstacles (which took _quite_ some time), we actually became close friends. Even after spending nineteen years at opposite ends of the spectrum, we had shared experiences; to say we were astonished by how much we had in common would be an understatement- but it was a pleasant surprise.

Our parents had always hoisted an unhealthy amount of expectations on our shoulders, and we had forever struggled to live up to them, until we were pushed to the last straw, and had no choice but to push back, to rebel; to finally realize that it wasn't worth it, to give up and let go.

Unappreciated and misunderstood, we were drawn together the way moths were drawn to light. Until one day, being just friends wasn't enough anymore; he took me out to dinner to a gorgeous little boat just off the shore. We spent the night there eating and drinking, laughing and crying, dancing and then finally sleeping.

I was the one person who could make Draco do anything. Sometimes, this scared me- what if he did something crazy?

But as it turned out, it wasn't his lunacy I had to worry about- it was mine.

Ronald Weasley was the name of my insanity.

Cure? Well, there was none.

When Ron had left me after the war to "explore the seas" and "taste all the dishes on the menu" he had probably expected me to sit around and pine for him.

And I had done so, until Draco has shown me better; he had listened when I spoke, had shown me how to have fun again, had brought me back to life.

Ronald Weasley had not liked that his arch-nemesis had replaced him.

So Ronald Weasley came to the conclusion that he loved me again; because Ronald Weasley had decided the time was ripe to ruin my life again.

When your insanity calls out to you, beckons to you, you don't spend too much time in thought- you walk back into its warm, familiar embrace.

You feel safe, but in reality, you just picked a match out of a haystack and used it to light the fire beneath your own psychosis.

And of course, the fire will eventually consume you.

That's what happened to me.

Ronald Weasley decided he'd rather have Lavender Brown, and I was left to burn.

I'd burnt; for a long time, I thought my destination was a pile of desiccated, blackened charcoal.

But the fire ebbed away; it was vented and burnt itself out, disappearing as though it had never been there.

It had left its mark, though. The burns would never go away, and I didn't want them to. They served as a reminder for what happens when you mess with crazy.

Draco was back in my life, but as if on probationary terms; he was not all there- more reserved, quieter… less himself.

But I knew he was there, somewhere, under the façade, behind the veil he had between us.

It was to protect himsef.

Because he had been burnt when I had rekindled the fire to my own lunacy.

He had felt its sweltering heat, had been hurt, and he didn't want to feel it again.

I couldn't blame him.

I was happy that he was there in some shame or form, because no one else was. Once married, Harry and Ginny had decided to take a year-long tour of the world; and I had never been good at making friends.

I longed for more of him; I wanted all of Draco, everything.

But I had lost my chance; Draco I would never get.

It was as though a curtain had been lifted; I could see everything clearly.

Or maybe a hazy mist had fallen, blurring my vision.

I stood up suddenly, knocking over the table in front of me, spilling drinks all over Zabini's pale blue shirt. He exclaimed loudly. Or maybe he didn't. I didn't notice.

All I saw was Draco kissing a woman- she didn't have crazy chestnut curls; she didn't have brown eyes; she wasn't a Muggle-born; she wasn't his partner.

She wasn't Hermione Granger.

Draco Malfoy was the cure to my insanity.

Without him, I was descending into the pits of an insanity that ran far deeper than my last.

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